Upheaval
by Teagie227
Summary: In Helm's Deep, what if help came too late? Maybe Saruman's 10,000 strong army should have overpowered the Deep. Set in AU where Helm's Deep is lost completely. Warning: Violence, gore, possible future explicit content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been about a half-year since I wrote fanfic, just wanted to see if I still had it in me. So, honestly, let me know what you guys think, if you want to see more of this, if I should go ahead and bump up the rating, if there are any glaring mistakes I need to fix. I mixed the book and movie-verses at my convenience so be warned! Thanks for reading! Enjoy!**  
**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**  
Before the evening Theoden, King of Rohan, and many of his constituents fell to the darkness and mercilessness of Saruman's army, it rained all day. Into the evening, the heavens cried sheets of tears upon the battle below, mourning the bloodshed and the first step to the fall of Middle Earth as many knew warriors fought valiantly, with fervor unmatched in all the world. Few made off with their lives. Even fewer made off still free men. The White Army broke through the stronghold of Helm's Deep, The slew anyone they could get a hold of, and the rain washed away their crimes.  
The huge wooden doors that stood between the women and small children of Helm's Deep and inevitable terror flew open with a deafening crack, upon a room occupied by only a handful of men and unarmed women and children. The onslaught began, and Eowyn, niece of the king, quickly shooed away the crowd, making sure they knew to run for their lives. She knew most of them wouldn't make it. In the progress of keeping her uncle's constituents safe, the Uruk-hais and orcs and goblins and all the dark things that dwelt in the night had beaten back the cushion of foot-soldiers a considerable distance. No time to run, better hide. With no weapon at her side, she found a small crawlspace, meant for draining water, and she stayed there for a long while, trying to block out the screams above her. Her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see her kinsmen and warriors die. Beside her, she heard a loud thud. Daring to unsqueeze her eyes, she saw a man's dead body. She was unsure who he was, but it hardly mattered. His eyes opened, he glanced around, gurgling from his slashed throat, a red-black sea washed beneath him. She just stared back, unable to make a sound, and looked him in the eyes as he died slowly. A flurry of feet ran deeper within the Deep. She sucked in her breath and held it there, not wanting to make even the smallest sound.  
She recalled a story she heard as a child. That orcs were once elves, destroyed and remade by the Dark Lord for his twisted aspirations. Was it true? Perhaps their elfishness could have heard her breathe, heard her heart beat in her throat? She ultimately decided not to find out. When the activity was seemingly over, she listened closely to make sure those sounds of battle were coming from the outside. The blood leaking from her trampled neighbour's mangled body was soaking into her dress, she could feel it. Biting back her impending vomit, she slowly leaned forward, careful not to rustle anything around to much. She was sure if any enemy was coming, she would hear, but no sense in taking any chances. Searching the body, his belt where weapons should be, was empty save for a small dagger. It seemed as if his sword was elsewhere. She took the dagger anyway and breathed for a moment. In the madness, a few torches had gone out. She peered around the dimly lit hall, it had to be near.  
Once her eyes adjusted, she found it lying just out of reach. Perhaps if stretched out a foot... Placing her hands behind her and lifting her body from the floor, she outstretched her leg, hardly being able to touch the hilt with her toe. Stretching a little farther, she managed to get a shaky hold, trying to drag it backwards to her. It slid a little, making it easier to get the next try, but amidst the dreadful peace of the hall, she heard a gruff and terrible voice singing,

_"In the dead of night you will hear me cry,_  
_I will come to the earth and you will die._  
_You cannot escape this terrible fate,_  
_Your time has come and the hour is late..."_

She quickly drew the sword to her and clutched the hilt with both hands. Now with a sword, she care only slightly less if anyone or anything heard her.

_"In the robes and veils of grey,_  
_In peaceful rest I cannot lay._  
_I come to your home to warn of death,_  
_I walk the land but draw no breath..."_

Not seeing her aggressor, she peered around the corner of her space, seeing what could have been misconstrued as an Uruk-hai, but was definitely an orc. A big orc. His nasty voice filled the room as he walked about doing what looked like looting bodies. He sang his song, and seemed unaware of Eowyn's presence. She almost sighed with relief.

_"I take the form of a hooded crow,_  
_and gaze at the carnage of battle below..."_

But, wait, he was coming near to her. Too close. she tensed as he fumbled about the landscape of bodies, picking up jewelry, weapons, money, anything. He slowly picked his way over to the body near her. She mentally punched herself for not kicking the man away when she had the chance. The orc paused, took a big sniff of the air, and stayed still for a minute. Eowyn held her breath again. He knew she was there. He bent down to search the body nearest her, yet didn't look up at her. She was sure he knew she was there. But he just went on singing.

_"My presence will fill a man with dread,_  
_I wash the blood from the clothes..."_

Now was when he looked up, wearing a smile Eowyn never wanted to see for the rest of her life. His expression darkened from one of murderous psychosis to one of violent lust as he spoke, "Of the dead." He lunged at her, and with a strained yell she thrust the sword at him, she went straight for the face. The sword hit ts mark and she scrunched her face up as his blood, black and smeling of rot, sprayed on her face and torso. Now was the time to get out, anything else that was in this hall now knew she was here. She bolted out of the crawlspace, and looked around. She hardly observed her surroundings before an arrow whizzed past her left ear. She ducked behind a column as another missed that had been aimed at her.  
She heard the heavy patter of goblin feet running towards her stronghold of a column. In her adrenaline rush, she foresaw what was to come, and stuck the sword out to her left, clothes-lining her adversary. Looking up, she saw near the ceiling was a hole hardly large enough for her to crawl through, but surely it led somewhere, and hopefully to safety. It was too late to be brave. She knew her kinsmen were dead or captured. She could feel it. That choking sensation someone gets when something is just plain wrong. The walls were made of the mountainous stone, so surely she could climb up there. Deciding to risk it, she tucked the sword into her belt, and ran to the wall and started, fast as she could.  
It took about 15 minutes to scale half the wall, and yet another arrow hit the rocks above her. Eowyn picked up the pace, but to no avail, as she kept getting bombarded until finally when she was not more than five meters from the tiny cavern, an arrow pierced her right shoulder. She cried out, and almost fell. But, no, she was determined not to die. Not today. Not like this. _Press on._  
And she did. Shimmying up the wall and into the hole. She couldn't see anything, but could smell no animal. _Nothing left to do_, she thought, _but see where this leads._  
**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**  
**Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings does not belong to me in anyway. Neither do the lyrics. Credit goes to Tolkien and Cruachan. My only property are dumb orc extras number 1 and 2.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah so tomorrow I am bumping up the rating. Heads up to anyone who's been checking on this story. Also WARNING: TORTURE SCENE and SEXUALLY SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL (particularly a little rape-y so if this is going to make anyone uncomfortable, skip the whole scene) to follow**. **Review if you like. No pressure. Also feel free to point out any glaring and ridiculous mistakes.  
**

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

Eowyn crouched still in the hole for a moment, catching her breath. Her heart hurt from the strain. She attempted to slow her breaths and calm down. She was safe for now. Daring a hand to reach up, she felt her injured shoulder. It stung, and she sucked at her teeth. Then she felt was made her burst into tears. An arrow head. She thought, I am going to die. If she was going to die, she certainly wasn't going to do it with an arrow in her back. She thought for a moment how she could take the foreign object certainly wasn't going to just rip it out. An idea struck her. Gathering up her courage, she reached back with her left hand and managed to bend then break the brittle wooden shaft of the orc arrow. A wave of pain shot through her torso and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out. There may still be orcs down there. Grabbing a firm hold of the arrow tip this time, she started shimmying the arrow out and away from her. The painstaking process didn't take much time but it felt like forever. But finally, she was arrow-free, and taking one last bit of energy, she pumped a fist in the air. Once she caught her breath again, she was ready to make her way down the tunnel.  
Crawling on her good hand and knees, she made her way through the tunnel, keeping her right arm behind her back. She figured if she blocked the blood flow a little the wound wouldn't bleed as much. She had no light, and had to feel her way around, it was long, and pitch black, and it seemed to be getting ever smaller. It's going to be a dead end. she thought in panic. Her heart beat fast and hard at the thought of having to return to Helm's Deep. She willed herself on. This dragged on for hours, and she began to lose her resolve. Her eyes felt heavy. For fear of losing her sanity, she decided it was safe to sleep, if only for a few hours. She laid down on the floor of the tunnel, and let the darkness take her.  
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O  
Eothin and Ingwar scouted ahead of the rest of the Rohirrim. They were in high spirits, the two, sure they could overpower some random assemblage of orcs. Nearing the entrance of the Deep, they quieted down, wanting to get a good look at the status of the battle.  
"It's quiet, Ing." Eothin whispered.  
His voice lowered, Ingwar agreed, and the two ducked behind the rocks just to the left of the entrance.  
Peering over the edge of the mound, they saw their nightmares made flesh. The mass of dark races, still thousands strong, had over taken the Deep. Eothin gasped and sank behind the rocks, turning away from Ingwar, who continued to watch. It seemed as if there was some sort of rally going on.  
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O  
Dagaz looked at the troops he had been put in charge of. They looked weary, but not drained. He had only lost about 2,000, he would say. Just an eyeball amount. But he figured his master would be pleased to see so many return from such a dangerous mission. Dagaz smiled a toothy grin, and turned to consider the prisoners they had taken. A few men, some elves. There was also a dwarf. Rare, dwarves. At least in his experience. This was the first dwarf he had seen siince his creation. He sat, resting his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms and peered at the men and women in his snares.  
"What are you going to do? Dagaz?" An eager foot soldier was egging him on.  
"Shut up!" Dagaz snapped, and after a short moment of silence, he said, "Saruman already told me what I should do."  
"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about Sauron." A Dunleding man, not far away, wheezed, intently resharpening his axe.  
"I'm not some orcish dog. I don't follow Sauron's orders." Dagaz spat, and rose to approach the prisoners. Some, who looked troublesome and dangerous, were tied to makeshift posts. Most were seated on the ground before the great Deep that had fallen to Darkness, surrounded by guards to keep them quiet and fearful. "Humans..." he began, finding the common tongue a bit difficult to force out. "We are not going to kill you. If we were, we would have already done so. I simply ask for no resistance. We are supporting a greater cause, it is your job to let us do our job. You will not resist, you will do as you are ordered to, and you will remain unharmed." A panicked murmur broke out into the crowd, fearful eyes turned towards the Uruk-Hai who stood tall before them. "Hush!" He roared as the worry got out of hand.  
A voice came out from the midst, an elf, tied to one of the posts said, "Why should we believe you?!" He was a fierce looking thing, face and hair dark with orc blood, the light of battle still in his eyes. Yet very strong words for someone chained to a post. Dagaz thought.  
"You," Dagaz pointed at a guard. "Untie him." He said as he walked over to the elf-man, he said, "What is your name?"  
Dagaz was met with angry silence. "What is your name, elf?!" The elf just spat at Dagaz's feet and Dagaz growled in frustration.  
And a whisper cam from a younger elf near them, head hanging, looking defeated, and he said, "Haldir."  
"Speak up."  
"His name is Haldir."  
Dagaz grinned a terrible grin and sauntered over to the young man. Grabbing a hold of his face Dagaz said, "Thank you, boy. If it so turns that I must kill you all, I will kill you last and fastest." And he turned back to the matter at hand. "Is Haldir off the post yet?"  
"Yes, Commander."  
Raising his voice, Dagaz said, "Then chain him to that rock over there! Let's have a little fun with this elf!" He was met with a roar of agreement from his army. Haldir was dragged to said boulder, easily seen by the captive audience, and his limbs were spread and bound. Dagaz stood before him, relishing in this position of power. "Allow me to demonstrate to you, what may happen if you resist Saruman and Sauron's wishes!" Dagaz bellowed, taking the rod of his spear and repeatedly hit Haldir's body, mostly focusing on the legs and shins, as the elf tried for all he was worth not to cry out. The Orcish company roared with laughter, their entertainment not unnoticed by the horrified prisoners.  
In the prisoner's group, Legolas had shrunken in on himself, and tried to keep his emotions in check. Aragorn had kept his cool during the attack, and managed to be kept from being bound.  
"Legolas?" He whispered.  
"He won't be able to walk." Legolas' voice shook, before an orc guard said,  
"You lot, pipe down!"  
Daring another look at the scene, Haldir was breathing heavily, sufficiently battered. Dagaz seemed not to be finished, grabbing hold of the elf's tunic, he tore it open and drew out a filthy orc blade. "I'll show you to question me, elf." Taking the blade, Dagaz made a ragged incision running from Haldir's left ribs to his right hip. "As I understand it, this is a very dangerous place to cut anything. Better be careful elf." In a further effort to horrify the other prisoners, Dagaz leaned down and licked some blood from the cut, moving back up, he ran his bloody tongue from the hollow of the elf's collar bone to his ear and said, "Release him." Haldir looked ready to vomit.  
Haldir's chains were cleaved with axes and he was roughly guided back to the prisoners.  
"Now, since we all understand each other, here is the thing: You are all my messengers now. Run. Run to to your men and elves, your families and friends and tell them. Tell them a new world order is coming, and that we are too strong and too determined to be beaten back and eradicated! We are coming! And we cannot be stopped!" With each word Dagaz grew louder and turned more to his company of troops, speaking more to them than the prisoners now. "Let the weak men be ready for us! It will do them no good. It will make more sport for us!" A few of the army shouted in agreement and support, others screamed in anger that the prisoners were to be set free.  
Dagaz turned back to the captives. "You are all to leave now. Except," He paused for a moment, raking the faces of the group. "You." He pointed to a young woman. "I like the loo of you. Keep that one in my tent. The rest of you leave."  
O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O  
As this transpired Ingwar had seen it all. He commanded Eothin to stay down. Ing knew if Eothin couldn't handle the group of orcs over-running the Deep he couldn't handle this. All Ingwar had to say was,  
"Shit."  
"What? What happened?" Eothin pleaded as Ingwar wiped at his face when he realized he had been crying. "Ing?"  
"We have to leave. NOW. I'll report to Eomer what I've seen."  
"What we've seen."  
"No, you haven't seen the whole of it."

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

**No I LOVE HALDIR. HONESTLY. I'M SO SORRY BBY.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter! Or, you know, whatever. I feel like everything in this story is OOC but idk…**

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

Eowyn awoke from a dreamless sleep. At least, she thought. In a cavern such as this, it was difficult to distinguish slumber from waking consciousness. Stretching for a moment, she set back out in the direction she was going. The tunnel stretched on and she crawled for hours, her muscles aching, her back pleading to stand, or sit upright, anything but this. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding so much and had begun scabbing over. She noted to be careful not to reopen the wound with too much activity. Surrounded by so much darkness, she pushed back the intense feeling of dread that followed her every move. What if the tunnel went on forever? She told herself she was being ridiculous. _Press on._

She thought it had been getting lighter, very gradually. Partly because she could finally, sort of, see her hand in front of her face now. It was getting harder and harder to go on, though. She thought, with hope, perhaps the path was sloping upward. She took a short break, resting just for a moment to give her sore body a moment to recuperate before going again. Here the path began to twist without warning, the going got even slower. Feeling her way around, she progressed.

Suddenly, just like a sun peeking from behind storm clouds, she turned a corner and could see light, and she could see very well all at once. Picking up her pace she went to the next corner, and when she turned it, she was bathed in the sunlight of early evening. She went up to the mouth of the cave and stood up, breathing a sigh of relief. Leaning her back on the rock face above the tunnel entrance, she shielded her eyes from the sunlight, gradually getting her eyes used to the light once more. She had been a few days in darkness or, at the least, cloudy weather, but finally she could see that the sun and light were still there, and would go on.

Orienting herself, she had decided she must be facing north, as the sun was setting. With dread she realized Isengard lay North of the Deep. Where could she go? Not West, straight into Dunland. She assumed she must be fairly close to the Gap of Rohan. To the East, of course there was her homeland and to the Southeast, there was Edoras. In that case she would have to cross back past Helm's Deep. That was the last place she wanted to go now. Even then, who knew what state Edoras would be in by the time she arrived? To the South there was not much else but rocks and mountains. Each direction stretched out a promise of sorrow and hardship. She would have to find food, and clean water. She had no bow to hunt with (and would be hard pressed to chase down some wild beast with a sword in her current state), and the mountain was bare.

She gazed up at the sky, though sunny, something had changed in it. As if it had turned sour. _This is what the world has become._ She reminded herself.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"That was so close." Aragorn breathed, driving his shoulder further beneath Haldir's barely responsive body. It had taken him and Legolas an hour or two just to get Haldir up the hill and out of the Deep. They took great care to keep his stomach perpendicular to the ground or facing slightly upwards, quite a feat when the elf was prone to slumping over in his weary state. "So _fucking _close."

"We should count ourselves lucky." Legolas, who was on the other side of Haldir, squeezed Aragorn's shoulder. "It is very unlike an orc to release his prey. He is to gain something from this, I am sure."

Haldir just 'hmpf'ed.

"You could have died." Aragorn informed Haldir, as if he did not already understand the weight of the situation.

"Good, I would rather have. I would prefer dying to life in a world that is to follow now that Helm's Deep has been lost."

"Haldir," Legolas' voice built strength. "The war is not yet lost."

"Then why did you not fight?!" The elder elf was surprisingly still full of fire, despite the vicious beating he had only just been released from.

Legolas was silent for a moment, gazing onto the horizon, likely looking out for some sign of friend or foe. But the path away from the Deep was empty. "Now we are free. We cannot destroy an entire orc army, not the three of us, not even the 50 or so that we have been separated from. But now we are free, and can gather an army of our own, we can ready the men of the land for a fight, something we could not have done otherwise. That Uruk-hai commander made a grave mistake letting us live. If we had fought, we may be dead, our corpses are of no use to anyone."

Haldir laughed a bitter laugh. "We'll do exactly what he wants us to do."

"Precisely." Aragorn said. "He said the readiness of men to fight would do them no good. He underestimates the people of Middle Earth."

"They'll need help, Aragorn. Who do you ask? Lothlorien? I know they will not assist you anymore than what we have given, which has been lost. Where-"

"Gondor." Aragorn interrupted. "Gondor will assist us."

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Dagaz sat on the floor before the map Saruman had given him and repeatedly flicked over the crudely carved wooden figurine he had chosen to represent Theoden in his battle planning. The girl that was delivered to him crouched in the corner and watched him silently through narrowed eyes. His eyes flicked over to her and she jumped a little in surprise that he had looked at her. He smirked and flicked the tiny statue over extra hard that time. It slid over to the other side of the tent where he could not reach. He looked at her again.

"Do you mind?"

Her brow furrowed and she shrunk a little, seemingly ready for an attack. Dagaz lifted an eyebrow and stared at her without a word. After about a minute she tentatively stood and picked up the figurine, holding it in her hands and considering it as she walked shakily over to her captor and handed it to him. He watched her intently, and took the statue from her hand. Their skin brushed together and her hands retreated in great fear before Dagaz hand a chance to get a hold of the token, it dropped to the ground.

Dagaz roared with laughter and the girl went immediately back to her corner. He was unsure why the situation struck him as so hilarious. He wished that girl over there wasn't so skittish, though.

Lugurt dared a glance into Dagaz's tent, and seeing that not much was transpiring, said in Black Speech, "_Dagaz, a word?"_

"_Come in._" He chuckled, seeming to be coming back into sobriety from some overly hilarious occasion._ "I've been expecting you for quite some time. You say you have news for me? _".

"_Pardon your wait, I thought perhaps_…" Lugurt rasped as he glanced at the Human in the corner as his words trailed off.

"_I just wanted to look at her." _Dagaz didn't feel any need to explain himself to this common orc. What he preferred to do with the girl was his business.

Lugurt grunted, considering the human girl so small and vulnerable. "_A waste of a defenseless human if you ask me."_

"_I didn't."_ Dagaz growled. _"What do you need?"_

Lugurt swallowed in panic, sensing Dagaz's mood fouling. "_Some of the soldiers, now, understand, not me, never me, but I have overheard… some of the soldiers questioning your… leadership skills." _Lugurt divulged to his commander, who squinted at his constituent.

"_Oh, I'm sure you were not involved in such trivial gossip, Lugurt."_ Dagaz stated tersely. _"But in the future, do me a__ favour__. Next time you hear a group of soldiers saying such things, kill them all."_

Lugurt nodded curtly, looking slightly concerned, and left his present company. Dagaz sighed and looked over at his frightened companion.

"All orcs are idiots." He thought he saw her mouth curve up slightly, if only for the faintest second.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

At the risk of her livelihood, Eowyn decided simply to stay put. Better to be living hungry and parched than slain by orcs, or worse. She set off to find her way around the area, marking her cave with a wayward tumbleweed, and set out until it was dark.

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

**I think that may be the last of**** Dagaz**** but not sure. If anyone wants more from Dagaz, I suggest you speak up because he'll probably be cut next chapter. Anyway, reviews are appreciated but not demanded. Hope you enjoyed your stay at my story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, so I'm not overly proud of this one but I gotta get this plot moving in the right direction. Those of you kind enough to review have expressed some interest in Dagaz so guess who's here to stay? (But not in this chapter). Instead, let's look in on my personal fav character, Grima…**

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

"You have promised me something, Saruman." Grima Wormtongue stood before his superior, arms crossed. Not in the way a petulant child does, but in the way a man readying himself for a fight would. His eyes darted this way and that, like a frightened alley cat. _Don't let him know you're scared shitless, Grima._

"And what's that? The promise of a Wizard?" Saruman spat back, but otherwise seemed to ignore Grima entirely. As of late, Saruman had worsened at keeping his word.

"I've been reliably informed that it frequently means a great deal. And although at this point it would be impossible for me to have Eowyn as she is most likely dead, you still promised me Edoras, at the end of things." Grima's jaw tensed. "And my part is finished. You have Helm's Deep."

"What would you do, Grima, if I never held up my end of the bargain, hm? What is the worst you could do? I do not fear you. Rohan has fallen by my hand, with _my_ army. What have you done?" Saruman didn't have the patience to deal with Grima's souring mood. He had other, more important things to attend to; the next step in his plans, for instance, which he was unsure of. All the more reason to think on that then deal with his pesky human spy.

Grima laughed, which caught Saruman's attention. It was not often he did that.

"Is this a ploy, Saruman? Did you think you could buy intelligence with empty promises? Is this your last ditch attempt to double cross me?" Grima seemed amused, looked at Saruman he was some fantasy-ridden teenager. It angered the Wizard.

"Where are you going with this, Worm?" His eyes narrowed, grasping his staff tightly, making sure Grima hadn't had any plans to attempt physical assault. Not that it would have mattered, as his smaller stature and submissive attitude put him at an automatic disadvantage. However, in this moment,

"I wouldn't have gone into dealings with a powerful wizard such as yourself without knowing for sure I was going to get my slice of the cake." Grima said, almost snarled, "I have… insurance."

"Oh? I'm sure this 'insurance of yours is going to stay my hand from smiting you when I feel the time is right."

"Oh, indeed, it is, my lord. I have insurance, and her name is Kaali."

Grima watched with glee as Saruman's eyes flashed with anger, hatred, _and maybe a little bit of fear._

"Now that word has probably gone out that the Deep is taken, she is making her way to Edoras as we speak. And if I am not there, sitting on Theoden's throne and pissing on his memory, she knows where to find you. I'll have my reward for endangering my life at the hands of those straw-headed barbarians."

"She is no Wizard, Grima." Saruman said, scrambling to get the upper hand in this argument. "My race was blessed with magic. My powers far outshine that of some mountain-dwelling elf shaman. I do not fear her." Saruman was trying harder to convince himself than Grima. It had been hundreds of years since anyone had heard out of the anarchic and far more liberal party of Forest elves moved away from their brethren and into the mountains facing Dunland. They were not as powerful, nor did they live as long, yet found themselves to be gifted shamans of the Dunlending Pantheon.

Any average shaman, especially one who turned away from the Valar, would be of no threat. But he heard rumour that Kaali had gained the affection of a power darker and more powerful than either of them.

"It isn't _her_ I would fret over, my friend."

The usage of the word "friend" coming from the Worm grinded on Saruman's ears.

"Fine! Send for your wretched family and take any soldier stupid enough to go with you and have your forsaken city. I hope it burns to the ground." Saruman picked up a quill and bottle of ink and lobbed it across the room, which Grima ungracefully managed to dodge. Grima straightened and walked out of the room, on his way out saying,

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you." And the Worm's unpleasant laughter filled the halls of Isengard.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"Sir, the whole of Helm's Deep is teeming with orcs. It's over." Ingwaz bowed his head before Eomer. He had been trying to tell his thick-headed cousin that going to the Deep would be a grave mistake.

"I still don't understand why you're trying to talk me out of action. They are just a random assemblage of Orcs and Goblins." Eomer said sourly.

Ingwaz narrowed his eyes, Eomer was his superior, but this was getting ridiculous. "Just Orcs?" Ing's voice raised. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do think I'm lying? Exaggerating? You think this is some kind of fucking joke? I watched them _kill_ an elf. Sliced him right open like a Yule-tide ham." Eothin, who had been silent the whole time, widened his eyes. Ing had refused to speak to him the whole way back. He knew now why. "There's nothing we can do to save the Deep. Not now."

"I don't believe he is lying, Eomer." Gandalf intervened, attempting to defuse the situation a bit. Then, directing his attention to Ingwaz, said, "What did this elf look like?"

Ingwaz looked about, trying to draw the memory back to him. "Uhm… tall, blonde, pretty boy. Just like every other elf I've ever seen. It was very far away…" He said, obviously slightly taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"Was he armoured?"

Ingwaz thought another moment. "I don't think so."

Gandalf's eyes closed and his brow furrowed. Thinking it was Legolas, his eyes watered. "We have to do something, Eomer. But we'll need more men."

"Why?" Eomer asked, truly itching for a fight.

"You underestimate Saruman. I can guarantee that if there was enough Orcs to take down Helm's Deep, there are too many for just the Rohirrim to fight. We must ride to Gondor. Now."

Eomer tensed. "We were too late."

"It isn't your fault."

But this was what Eomer felt. His mind went immediately back to the times when everything was at least semi-normal. Before Helm's Deep and exile and Orcs and war. He should have come to Theodred's aid sooner, should have saved his life, killed Grima, or had him fired, held on to his Uncle's sanity for dear life and, at the least, should have died at Helm's Deep with him. Should have told Eowyn he loved her, and that she was the best sister he could ask for. Had he done this, he would have died far more content than this moment, knowing spear and club had saved his limb. But now it was too late. They were dead.

All he could do now was avenge them. He would divert his attention from protecting the family he no longer had to protecting the rest of Middle Earth, he decided.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Eowyn was having a rough time surviving in the mountainous wilderness. But, at least she was alive. She had set up camp near a cold spring, and found a few edible plants and freshwater clams. She never got enough to eat, but in her opinion, she was doing remarkably well considering she was injured and totally bereft of tools. For now, her shoulder was wrapped in a haphazard patch of grass and stems. Better than nothing. She hoped that not all was lost. Perhaps this war was still salvageable. But Helm's Deep was to be such a paramount turning point, how could the free people of Middle Earth ever tip the scales in their favour? At a different time, she may have thought it could be done, but having seen the horror she had experienced this week, she was not quite so optimistic.

The loss of her hope killed her inside.

It was the one thing she had left. And did she not say, more or less, that the loss of hope was what she feared the most?

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

**Oops, I created an entire new race, silly me….**

**So… yeah… If I start to get a little overboard with the OCs or OC mentions, lemme know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to you reviewer friends. And, guys, the plan was to have a few breakdowns but… ya know, not in the situations they found themselves in last chapter, because I wanted to do this parallel thing. For reasons. Enjoy! **

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

Eomer stole away from the Rohirrim. His tent offered at least a bit more privacy than anywhere else. He stepped inside and finally let himself feel. And it felt like he had gotten beat in the chest with a club. He was so choked up it actually, physically, hurt him. He knelt slowly, his legs starting to shake. He couldn't help but feel glad he had waited. It wasn't fair to his men to see him in a weakened state. If they couldn't help but think he was a heartless bastard then let it be. Here, the veil dropped.

Miles away, Grima had closed and locked the door to the room he had been given to sleep in. Same grief, over the same girl, and in the same form of solitude as Eomer. Yet, Eomer's grief felt deeper, hit harder, hurt more, perhaps, than Grima's. For Grima had only ever wanted to kill Theoden, Eomer put forth quite a bit of energy into keeping the Uncle who had treated him as his own son alive. Eomer had failed his own family.

Grima did not know this. Nothing of the pain Eomer felt. Though it is not certain he would have cared.

Since his face-off with Saruman had ended, he slammed his back against a wall and slid down in dismay. His heart beat a million times a minute, as he took deep breaths to keep himself calm. Grima knew this wasn't definitive. Dagaz had taken prisoners as instructed, of course. Dagaz always followed orders. There was a 90% chance the girl he had pined after for so long was dead. But there was always that 10%. And knowing Eowyn, surely that 10% would be closer to 20%?

Eomer did not know this.

Ing, noticing his cousin had gone, went looking for him and, trying his tent, lifted the cover of the front a bit. "Eomer?" he asked, seeing the darkened form that was likely his cousin, huddled in the back, hunched over and shaking, if only slightly.

Eomer hurled the nearest object in reach at Ingwaz, and, seeing as it was dark outside, Ing couldn't tell what it was, nor did he care to stick around to find out.

A knock at Grima's door roused him from his catatonia. Getting up off the floor, his muscles and back sore from the stone floor and wall, he went over and cracked the door, seeing the face of a goblin who, although refusing to tell Grima his name, he'd gotten along quite well with.

"I hear you're leaving."

"Yes. Tomorrow. Word travels fast here, doesn't it?" Grima would have laughed, but any urge to had been lost on him completely.

The nameless goblin nodded tersely. It was very quiet and tense for a few moments.

"My family and I are coming, and a few others." Grima was unaware Goblins had families. He'd never seen them as an actual, living thing. A technicality shortly to be remedied, he assumed, as long days only in the company of Dark Races were to come.

"Very well, I'll see you at the gates tomorrow morning." Grima said, and shut the door. He hadn't expected a single soul to want to leave Isengard in favour of roaming aimlessly about the wilderness with Grima and settling down in a deserted city like Edoras. Grima wasn't even sure he wanted to. But, he was in league with Saruman now, which meant he was in league with Sauron. If they wanted to accompany him, they could. It was all technicalities from here on out. At least he had a population for Edoras now, it would have no point without constituents. It was pointless without Eowyn, of course, but a different _kind_ of pointless.

Gandalf stood outside Eomer's tent; it was late, or, very early in the morning. He had waited, trying to prepare a speech that would console Eomer a bit. At the very least something that would piss him off. There were pressing matters at hand.

Before he even had a chance, though, Eomer called from the darkness and silence, "If it makes any sense to you at all, Gandalf, I'd really prefer to be alone right now."

And to the darkness Grima spoke, thinking on his love, with shaky breath and voice, through tears, "There's nothing I can do."

The sun had gone down, the moon passed behind a cloud, and they left the land in total darkness.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Eowyn woke that morning inexplicably positive. This made little sense, considering she was basically tool-less in a vast wilderness. Yet something in her said, _It'll be fine, it will all work out._

She set off to a small, fresh pool she found yesterday on her trek. That day she was far too weary to do much investigating and, although Eowyn was still starving and thirsty, she at least was rested enough to walk about today. Finding the pool once again, she skirted the edges, digging through the many plants growing between the rocks that lined the pool. Gasping in her good luck, she found a few wild leeks growing in a small batch. She picked a few and left some to continue growing. She jumped in the pool to wash off some of the dirt, both on her and the leeks, redressed, and set the leeks down on a nearby rock. Finding some dry wood and grass, she took the lot of it back to the cave with her. She had only ever seen others make a fire from scratch, and it took hours of endless trying to get it to work by emulating their movements, but finally there was a spark, and then a fire. Not too big, so as to leave attention away from her hiding place.

Even with this lucky feast of leeks, she needed water. Getting an idea, she set off to find a piece of wood that would work. It was long, but the inner part of the wood was gone, leaving only an outer shell. She shoved some clay into either end to close them and dipped it in the water, taking it back to the fire, and boiling it. It didn't taste great, but at least it was clean.

And Eowyn thought maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be totally miserable out here.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"How much longer do you think it'll be, Merry?" Pip whispered, quite as he could, making sure Treebeard couldn't hear his impatient inquiry. Oh, if Treebeard heard Pippin ask that, he'd get an earful. A very long, long, earful.

"At this rate, Pip?" Merry fought the urge not to chuckle, or sigh. He couldn't quite decide which one he even wanted to do. "Probably another week or so."

"What was that?" Treebeard's slow, slurred speech matched with his stretched, erred steps, as the other Ents he had gathered matched pace, or the lack thereof.

"Nothing, Treebeard! No worries!" Pippin exclaimed.

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

**Eh, kind of a short chapter, but I like it better than the last one. Idk, the second half isn't really dark or anything. I was in a really good mood that day! Guess it can't all be doom and gloom.**

**Anyway, you know, lemme know.**

**Now that I've actually written the grief scenes, is that a bit more like it, pals?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys sorry so much for the wait. My keyboard on the computer I use to type my stories broke so I had to fix it and that was a fun time. But, I've fixed it and I should be back in business!**

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

They set out at dawn. Grima and his men made a reasonable amount of ground by the next week. In fact, they had traveled the gap in the mountain range that would have taken them into Dunland. How Grima would have liked to travel a short distance into the country, to see his family. Sadly Draugen, the Goblin man who'd finally told Grima his name, had advised against such a thing.

"Some of these men _do_ have families, Grima." Draugen had told him. "All in the far North. It is likely they'll never see said families again. Hardly fair to go so far out of our way to see yours, sir."

"I suppose not. But, I thought there were no Goblin women."

"They are rare. But they exist. Alternatively, as you can imagine, the line separating a Goblin and Human in the far North from which we come is more… blurred." Draugen explained.

"It is much the same with my people." Grima assured his… friend? Could he call Draugen that, now, properly?

"Alright!" He shouted back at the company behind them. "Sun's going to come up in an hour or so, find some cover till night comes again." The expedition to Edoras was slow going, with Orcs and Goblins tailing him. He wouldn't have made them walk in the poisonous sunlight. Of course they were capable, but he was more than familiar with the relief of not having to do something he'd really rather not do. And besides, walking at night was far better than the light of day. He'd always appreciated the stillness of it. His long strolls through the halls of the palace hadn't always been to steal glances at his goddess's sleeping form. It wouldn't be long before he could walk those halls again, he thought, and cracked a smile.

Camp was set up in a hurry. Orcs and Goblins were surprisingly efficient at pretty much everything.

_They would have to be,_ he thought, _Otherwise Sauron would never get anything done..._

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Grima awoke in the late evening, as the sun was setting. He sat up and looked around him, almost forgetting where he was and what he had done with his life. He felt just a small twinge of an unidentified emotion. Could it have been… _remorse? Guilt?_ Certainly not. Not that hundreds or maybe even a few thousands of people had died to get him to this very spot. He shook his head. These thoughts surely couldn't haunt him. Especially not now. Now was not the time.

Deciding he could suffer a walk to clear his head, he got up and tiptoed around the endless landscape of sleeping Orc bodies, he set out to have a look about the wilderness surrounding them. Thhe mountain face before him wasn't very steep, he ascended it at a leisurely pace. Cresting a ledge quite a ways up the mountain, Grima found himself on a large, relatively flat surface. Looking around, it seemed to him so wild and untamed. There was no way he'd find his way back if he went any further. Turning around, he found a rock to sit on that would give him a good view of what went on in the world below him.

He didn't pay any heed to the fact that his world was behind him.

Eowyn grabbed the bane of her country, her old country, anyway. What Rohan offered her was lost now. She had no country. Grima hit the ground with a surprised yelp, and made a swing at his assailant, managing to loosen her grip on him, he shot up and, seeing the familiar gleam in the air, he drew his sword and prepared for a fight. But as soon as his eyes could focus straight on who had perpetrated the assault, they widened as large as dinner plates.

"… Eowyn?" He tried to keep his cool, one brow quirked yet his efforts could not mask the astonishment and relief he felt, and Eowyn sensed it.

She was just as surprised, albeit not relieved, to see Grima before her. Yet here they were, fate had allowed their paths to cross again, swords drawn on each other; and, oh, how she wanted to rip him to shreds. Then again, she'd never seen Grima fight before but… surely she could beat him. He didn't look very strong.

"Grima." She said curtly. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, with the weary way he stood in defense and wielded his sword, with that look in the eye of a frightened animal. Some part of her had hoped the next person she would see would look better off than her. Yet another time she'd been disappointed by Grima Wormtongue.

At least Eowyn didn't look much better. Her hair hadn't had a proper wash since the attack... that had to be going ona week and a half now. She was dirty, she was tired. Her body was getting leaner everyday, but at least she was alive.

"I'm going to act surprised you survived the onslaught."

"You shouldn't be." She spat bitterly, brandishing a sword that was about a foot too long for her.

"How'd you bust out of hell in such good shape?" He sneered.

"That's really none of your goddamned business, murderer." Her eyes narrowed as

A tic started in Grima's jaw and he smiled wickedly. "Your fiery spirit as ever been the thorn in my side, Eowyn."

Just as they were ready to tear each other apart a voice sounded from the rocky path below:

"Grima?!"

Eowyn froze, and Grima backed up, sheathing his sword, attention drawn to the mysterious voice. Eowyn took the opportunity given her and pointed the tip of her blade at Grima's throat. He looked down the length of her sword and grinned, that sort of grin with something wild, something mad behind it.

"Over here, Draugen." Grima bent his back, attempting to keep his Adam's Apple as far from the pointy steel aimed at him as his adversary would allow. He gulped, hoping for Eowyn's sake she wouldn't do anything rash enough to give away her presence.

Eowyn tried to hide the shudder she had at what this "Draugen" might be. If ever there was a less human sounding name…

"The company is about to leave without you if you don't show up soon. Who were you talking to, anyway?" The gruff voice called from the ever-darkening shadows. He, or _it, _seemed a bit annoyed, to say the least. Eowyn's fear showed through widened eyes as Grima glanced to her. Grima withheld a response for a moment. The silence hung in the air.

_Probably on purpose, the bastard._

"No one, Draugen. Trust me." Grima yelled back. Taking advantage of Eowyn's suprise that he hadn't sold her out, in the blink of an eye, Grima was gone from her. How disgustingly characteristically Grima to vanish from difficult situations like that.

Eowyn tried to shake herself out of the nervous feeling in her. Of course he would be traveling with a company. Men like him, cowards, never traveled alone if they could help it. But, with a company, he could have shouted bloody murder and had her killed...

She mentally slapped herself for thinking this way. She didn't owe the no-good bastard anything. It was his own mistake to leave her alive, nothing more than a mistake.

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

***Gasp*! No deliberate POV changes?! What is this?  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay so I'm a terrible terrible person for not writing in so long please don't hurt me I love you guys...**

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

Edoras had been completely abandoned. Not a single soul occupied the houses that surrounded the palace. What few men had been left to guard the palace must have heard, Grima mused. But it hadn't been ruined, not in the slightest, everything was as it was and shuld be. The air was positively erie. That didn't matter.

"Anything you find in the houses is yours." Grima addressed his men. "But the palace belongs to me." He added, fully establishing early on that he intended to stay in charge.

"And just why should you get it?" A goblin man stepped out from the motley crew, growling and taking an aggressive posture.

"Because I actually know how to spell my name." Grima retorted. "And I happen to know that a select number of you lot couldn't lead a parade."

A heavy silence fell on the company, as they stood in the courtyard of Edoras, made dreary by the overcast clouds. The Goblin spoke,

"You bastard! I'll kill you!" The scimitar in the goblins sheath was freed of its prison, and pointed right in Grima's face.

He looked down the length of the scimitar, crooked, rusty, old. There were many things that struck fear into Grima Wormtongue, son of Galmod. But most of those things had blonde hair and a significantly larger physique. Most of those things were also dead.

"I would strongly advise that you not." The self-appointed leader of the group held a hand out to Draugen, who placed a daggar in it. His own sword, surely, would be overkill. Reluctantly, the scimitar lowered it's position. Grima made to turn and walk away before saying, "And one more thing?"

The goblin turned, mouth open, perhaps to say something. Regardless of the intentions of that open mouth, they did not come to fruition as the Goblin's cheek was split open, his face and the ground beneath him most immediately pooling into blood puddles.

"Just in case anyone else had any ideas." Grima said. "Now go and take your spoils of war!" He shouted to the company and they obeyed. All except Draugen, who stayed behind.

"That... was quite the display." Draugen commented, watching the others scatter to find treasures hidden within the houses surrouding.

"My father once told me, 'Grima, if ever you have to lead a pack of madmen, the only way to get them to respect you and follower your orders is to be madder and more unpredictable than they.'"

"It works." Draugen mused. After a short silence between the two, Grima said,

"Draugen, can I ask a favour of you?"

"Of course."

Grima moved closer to his friend and lowered his voice a bit. "In the mountains, near where we stayed after crossing the gap of Rohan..." Draugen nodded in understanding. "There's a woman who lives in the mountains there. Now, I would very much appreciate it if you would bring her to me." He explained. "Alive." Grima hastily added.

"Very well."

"And when you return, I'd like for you to take your place as second-in-command. We shall rule this country together."

Draugen cracked a rare smile. "Of course."

Grima smiled back. Things would work out just fine here, he thought.

And as time moved on, and many a man would come looking for King Theoden, it never felt less than perfect to say,

"I am King of Rohan now."

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Aragorn, Logolas, and Haldir had done their best to warn the country-men. With Aragorn and Legolas stll battle weary, and Haldir both battle weary and damaged internally beyond repair, it had been quite difficult. They had been lucky in their travels. A kind woman, the wife of a farmer they met, had at least stitched him up. Yet still his stomach and intestines had ben marred not beyond working condition, but beyond repair. He'd never be the same. A very serious injury, especially with elves' notoriety for healing well and fast.

The plan was to go to Gondor and warn there also, perhaps help rally an army. However, the small company was discouraged, and had switched their main priority to reconnecting with Gandalf, wherever the Wizard could be. They tred a path around Rohan, surely he could not have gone out of the country by now. They moved in the direction of Helm's Deep, wishful thinking.

Haldir wasn't happy about the decision.

Then again, he was never happy these days.

And Legolas, no one knew about Legolas these days. Once perceptive and alert, he had become very drawn in. It made Aragorn want to weep. It was as if the dark energy that had swept over the land since the defeat was penetrating their souls and sucking the life out of them.

Arwen hadn't come to Aragorn since. Not in a dream, nothing.

His love had abandoned him, the world was quickly going to shit.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Eomer had elected to go back to Meduseld. It made little sense to stay near Helm's Deep, where surely the company had already been seen, and risk attack. Far easier, he had decided, to plan for war in a palace than on the plains or in the mountains. Gandalf rode next to him, silently. He had decided for himself that anything he could say to try to console the young man would not help. Eomer was on a mission now, and his autonomy would not cease until every orc and Goblin were dead and Mordor was a pile of dust. So, on they rode to Edoras, the noble Rohirrim.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Kaali was having a rought time indeed, finding this Edoras place. She had not ever been there. All she ever remembered were the stories Gareth had told her, about the golden halls, the open spaces, the men all blonde. She remembered telling Gareth he was stupid, only elves were blonde; she'd never seen a blonde man in her life.

Regardless, Edoras sounded awful.

She wondered why Grima would ever want it.

But Grima always did have strange tastes.

She wandered the wilderness, her trip not made any easier by the fact that Rokka would not help her find her way. Would it be blasphemy to call a God useless?

She had finallly stumbled out of mountain country, which was a start, but all that was left was vast unkepmt prarie least Grima had told her that meant she was close.

Yet, she could very faintly hear people talking. Perhaps, she thought, they would know where to go. Better to wait and see, Kaali thought. Keeping to the shadows, she crept closer to hear the conversation. If there was one thing she hated, it was fact the forest elves had been blessed with better senses.

"We'll camp here, and set out in the morning. I have faith that by afternoon tomorrow, we'll be at the city."

"I'm sure we'll be a sight for those guards King Theoden left, are you not?"

"I am certain."

It was clear these men were heading to the same place she was trying to get to. A large company of men. It was bad news, but she needed to get to Edoras. Coming out of hiding, she walked around a large stone, separating her from the mystery company. All blonde men she saw, and was afraid. Grasping her staff, she gripped the talisman she kept around her neck, hoping Rokka would protect her. Surely if she made a run for it, it would make too much noise, as the other side of the boulder had gone silent, save for dull murmurs and the quick, heavy beat of her heart.

"What is it, Gandalf?" One said.

_Gandalf the Grey._ She knew the name. He was very powerful, she knew, she only hoped her Gods were more powerful than the wizard.

"Another is here." He said. She waited and listened in a panic.

She wasn't sure when or just how quick she was dragged out of her hiding space, but when she regained the ability to think, she was on the ground beneath the staff end of a White Wizard.

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

**Thank you friends! I am glad you all are reading.**

**I might feel as if the first part Grima was a bit OOC. But I guess my reasoning is that we have already seen that he can be aggressive (IE in the canon story when Gandlaf first arrives at Edoras and he thinks he's in the position to lord over the city, yeah?), so why not?**

**Anyway, I dun got you all a chapter and I'm super duper very sorry for the (What was it weeks? Months?) long wait! I suck.**

**At least we get to check up on most of our lovely characters. Except Dagaz, still trying to fit him in somewhere... I'll shut up now. 3  
**


End file.
